


Fallout Drabble: Quick to the Draw

by Drouze



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 23:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14175324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drouze/pseuds/Drouze
Summary: Just a little drabble that involves Female!SS and John Hancock indulging in a little dancing at a small event held at the Third Rail. Things get a little suggestive. This piece was only intended to be a really small short, but if people like it then I may consider expanding on it.





	Fallout Drabble: Quick to the Draw

 

When was the last time Vera had indulged in dancing? Let alone with a competent partner? Far too long, she decides, as she easily fits against the impressive stature of the ghoul; though dwarfed by him in terms of height, they are balanced in skill, and her smaller frame is hardly lacking in strength (though most would be none-the-wiser). He smells like cigarette smoke and the faintest hint of jet, but it's a subtle smell that does not attack her senses, and instead curls around them pleasantly. Thus, she easily presses closer, entirely at ease with one who understood her.. desires.

"For a girl that's been on ice for two-hundred years, you've sure as hell still got it, sister." There's quite a bit John could be speaking of specifically right now. He's a man with a dozen plans up his sleeve, with dreams just waiting to be made into reality. Even if she is the type of person to react out of instinct, rather than conceived ideas, she can still appreciate his enthusiasm, his dedication. 

Two-hundred years ago, at an event like this, women were expected to behave a certain way. Timid, frightened; but she is neither, and for a moment, she breaks character to crack a smile at the inevitable draw.

Her gaze is half-lidded, with dark lashes that look almost romantic over ice blue irises; but those bedroom eyes aren't really sweet, despite their appearance. They're lethal, and they've seen men die in a thousand different ways since leaving the vault, and will see a thousand more in the years to come. But she's had time to perfect her craft, to settle into this life and what it means to be a wolf amongst sheep.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet, sweetheart." When she speaks, she is on her tip-toes, and it is low; a crooned whisper right on the shell of his ear. Maybe this scheme of his would dissolve between his fingers, maybe it would blow up violently in his face. Or, it could work. And regardless of the outcome, she was interested in seeing exactly how it played out.

A chuckle thrums from the ghoul's chest. "But, are you just sayin' that because you think you should, or because you actually believe it? What I know of human nature says the former, but, I also know your kind of ego personally. Which is distinctly the latter. I hope you've got a few contingency plans in place. You know, just in case."   
  
Such a tease, but what else should she expect? The woman was along the same vein as he was, in that regard. A whirlwind of playful chaos, a blaze of fire, anyone who wasn't careful was sure to get burned.  
  
"It's never too late to see." Vera muses, as she practically coils into his side like a lithe feline, softer physique pressed in all the right places.

Fire ignites beneath John's skin at such desirous words, ones he will remember and keep, ones he will play over again to ensure he doesn’t forget them. There’s no recreational high quite like this one, when there’s no doubt it’s not just him making a lovesick fool of himself.

 


End file.
